She Pantomimed "Be That Over There"
a micro fiction
Carly.
Clara. Clary. Carla.
I kick off the shoes easily and hop over the bathroom threshold. God. I look like a construction cone. My orange hair flies to a whispered heap beside the toilet.
The tights are at my ankles when I unbutton the blouse. I try stepping out of the skirt, but end up felled like a Lorax-licked tree beside the wig. Fucking tights.
Groaning, I stand up again. The soap bar is blackish, but I jab my face with it anyway. Water splatters my breasts. I check the mirror, face dripping.
White face. Red nose. Freckles. Lips.
Clown.
Photographer: Thomas Hawk
* * *
Thank you for reading! This is part of a micro fiction series where I take a photo and write a story inspired by it. Each story is 100 words.
If you enjoyed, you might like this one:
About the Creator
Mackenzie Davis
Most stories are reverted to Drafts, but will keep up resources & posts that hold community significance. May drop in for tips or updates.
My love & gratitude to you all.
It's time to pivot.
Boycott ALL A.I. \ Copyright Mackenzie Davis
Reader insights
Outstanding
Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!
Top insights
Compelling and original writing
Creative use of language & vocab
Easy to read and follow
Well-structured & engaging content
Excellent storytelling
Original narrative & well developed characters
Expert insights and opinions
Arguments were carefully researched and presented
Eye opening
Niche topic & fresh perspectives
Heartfelt and relatable
The story invoked strong personal emotions
Masterful proofreading
Zero grammar & spelling mistakes
On-point and relevant
Writing reflected the title & theme
Keep reading
More stories from Mackenzie Davis and writers in Fiction and other communities.
The Night of White Umbrellas
This street often speaks. On the night of the white umbrellas, many voices made their way to me. But I did not listen, for their shadows swallowed them before I could. Street lamps became my saving grace. And I watched the voices. I never stopped until the dawn came and I could see them no more.
By Mackenzie Davis3 years ago in Fiction
Choose Your Own Adventure: St Helena Station
*****Preface***** I have been obsessed with Choose Your Own Adventure stories since I was a kid. I credit them with my love of reading and writing. I've been struggling to get my own kids to embrace words the same way I have but they love video games and our occasional Dungeon's and Dragon's game... which gave me an idea. I'll write an interactive story. So far its working; my middle son loves it and can't wait for the next section to come out.
By Sandor Szabo6 days ago in Fiction
The Question of Breakfast
The Question of Breakfast The kettle whistled, the low, polite sound it made every time the cycle completed. Tea was every afternoon at four. George didn’t have to look at the clock. The television paced their days. The advert breaks gave him just enough time to put the kettle on. The steam hitting the tile was his reminder, like a trusty timepiece.
By Claire McAllen3 days ago in Fiction
Comments (2)
This felt quite liberating! Excellent job!
❤️📝💯😉